


A Chance Encounter

by ASOUEfan



Series: Mixed Mildred One-shots [3]
Category: Ratched (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Mildred being particular about grammar, OCD, One Night Stands, Period Typical Attitudes, confident!reader, implied - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:55:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASOUEfan/pseuds/ASOUEfan
Summary: Driving home alone at night, Mildred gets run off the road and busts a tyre. The oft-toted risk of men preying on a woman driving alone puts Mildred on edge, but a chance encounter with you instead is a lucky one, seeing as you know how to change tyres.
Relationships: Mildred Ratched (Ratched)/You
Series: Mixed Mildred One-shots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178909
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	A Chance Encounter

Most will say it is not proper for a woman to be driving alone at night. That one must be accompanied by a man, preferably a husband. But the reasons given by those in charge of such propriety are dubious, and Mildred pays little heed to them. After a life like hers, driving home in the dark is of little consequence. It is certainly no ground for fear.

She tightens her grip around the thin steering wheel, her car a symbol of her independence. Mildred is proud of her status, and such off-hand comments such as the one she received upon leaving Lucia State Hospital this evening - which is still running reams through her mind - bother her more than she would care to tell. The night shift guard is only being polite, she tells herself. But still, the insinuation that she cannot take care of herself is a demeaning one.

The road curves out of town through the woods, leaving behind the neon signs of roadside diners and gas stations. But her car headlamps give ample light, following the road to the Motel and driving just as capably as a man thank you very much.

But even for Mildred Ratched, it only takes a second - her attention wavering from the road to appreciate a darkening horizon - and the aqua blue car is veering, knocking over a stone in the road and juddering suddenly to the right. Mildred oversteers left to compensate and the smooth asphalt is gone and she's off bumping onto the grassy knoll at the side of the road. Mildred slams her brakes on, panting hard, headlights beaming ahead into the night.

Mildred simply draws a long breath in through her nose, unfazed. The incident is already scrubbed from memory, just another she’d rather forget. So she engages the accelerator, only a crawl at first, slowly manoeuvring back onto the tarmac - only to feel the car unevenly tilted. “Damn,” Mildred mutters. She parks up and gets out, leaving the car door hanging open and the lights on, as she inspects each wheel in turn. Her findings make her lips twist. The front right wheel is to blame. The shiny hubcap has shifted just enough that it’s slit the rubber. Mildred crouches and runs her finger along the tear with a tsk. She stands again, smoothing a gloved hand down her coat as she looks up and down the dark road. What to do? Mildred sits back in her car, and thinks.

Without a clock in the car, or the movement of the sun to measure the passing of time, Mildred is unsure how long it has been when your car parks up behind hers. Your headlamps illuminate brilliant aqua blue standing stalwart, against the black liquid night. The light reflects in her rearview making Mildred squint and cover her eyes. She snatches her handbag from the passenger seat and hugs it on neatly on her knees. Damn that night shift guard and his comments.

“Hey, everything alright there?” You call, not approaching at first. It could be a trap, even for a girl like you. Some men like reminding you you should be under their thumb and not dressing like them. 

Mildred winds down her window, and calls out of it. “My tyre. It - it’s broken.” She twitches. It’s the wrong word and she sounds like a silly woman for it. “Bust… burst?” She mutters to herself inside the car, fiddling her fingers together. Knowing technical terminology brings respect, but medicine is her speciality, not automobiles. Really that night shift guard was right all along, wasn’t he.

An answering female voice relaxes you instantly, and you jog over holding onto your cap, only taking it off when you get to her window so she can see you’re no threat. Your blonde ponytail tumbles out of it onto your shoulder. “Got a spare? I can change it for you.”

“Oh there’s really no need -“ She’s quick to put you off. Mildred doesn’t know of an alternative but she is not one to accept help, not from _anyone,_ let alone a stranger in the night who dresses like a boy. But - but isn’t. Mildred tilts her head, oddly curious at what she sees.

“It’s not no trouble Ma’am,” You smile, trying too hard to be gallant. She’s a real lady, all dolled up, with red lipstick and a stylish outfit, she’s making your insides quiver and your cheeks pinch. She’s probably married anyhow; you’d look for a wedding band but for those dainty red gloves.

 _“Isn’t any_ trouble,” She corrects you.

You lean on her open window, your charming smile softening into a frown. “Y’what Ma’am?”

Mildred’s jaw tenses unappreciatively. “You said, ‘not no’, thats a double negative, and incorrect in this instance. In almost every instance.”

“Oh,” You draw back your hand and bring both up on your hips.

Her eyes are drawn to your waist, travelling slowly up the plaid shirt - open at the neck, vest beneath, down again to the leather belt that holds up jeans that are clearly not tailored to the female form. Her lips bunch, but she needs to know. So Mildred leans a little out the window to your feet, then sits back, assumption confirmed. Boots.

“The spare is in the trunk.” She says curtly, waiting until you move around the back of the car before she gets out, taking a few steps closer - but not too close. Mildred keeps an eye on what you are doing. Though she’s not sure if its right or wrong, she hovers anyhow.

After jacking up the car and spinning the hub off, you see the problem is greater than just a spare change. The axel is at a painful angle, and likely cracked were you able to skim under it on your creeper, but you can’t say for sure unless you tow it back to the garage.

One knee still on the floor and hanging your arm off the spare, you smack your lips together in defeat. “No can do. This axels all bend outta shape and might need replacing.” You wave a heavy tool around gesturing about the car but it doesn’t help illustrate to Mildred what you mean.

“So, can’t you fix it?” Mildred pulls at the sleeves of her coat beginning to feel the night’s chill prick at her wrists. She should’ve bought those longer gloves but they simply hadn’t matched the outfit and - Mildred sighs. It’s immaterial now, she’s already cold and you seem to be no help at all.

“Not out here. You need a tow, lady.” You push to your feet, and roll the spare back toward the trunk.

“Well then get me one of those,” Mildred snaps.

You heft the tyre into its place with a chuckle. “This time o’the night? There’s not a garage open for miles. C’mon, I’ll drive you wherever you’re headed, and I’ll have a tow out first thing in the morning.”

Mildred folds and refolds her hands, a fake laugh betraying her nervousness. Taking a drive with a woman, unaccompanied - you seem kind hearted of course but she doesn’t know you.

“Very well.”

Your heartbeat quickens, glad of the dark between the headlamp beams for it hides how you’re grinning about it. “Alrighty then.” You clap your hands together enthusiastically but you only make her jump, and then glare at you. But you hold the door for her all the same, impressing her with your manners, or so you hope.

Mildred can’t help but glance over her shoulder at her precious car, locked and left alone. It’s a _thing_ and not a person, and a _thing_ can break down just as the mind can. But it’s her car, it’s not nothing. She tucks her skirts in as she sits down into your passenger seat, propping her handbag on her knees all the same. Nothing to be done about it now.

You swing her door shut then jog around to your own side, hop in, disengage the handbrake and rev the engine. “So where am I driving you Ma’am?” The air in the car feels hotter with two, and the front wind screen steams a little but that’s probably just you getting all hot and bothered.

“The Sealight Inn Motel. I’m staying there, on a long term rental,” Mildred replies, daring to turn her head and examine you at closer quarters. Your eyes are on the road so she know she won’t be caught, and there’s something _different_ about you she’s not encountered before. An energy altogether, unencumbered by the world and its priorities.

“You live in a Motel?” You smirk.

“It’s convenient.”

“It’s not a little, impersonal?” Maybe you can find out just why she lives in a Motel. She’s clearly a woman of the world and in money enough to pay for a long-ass Motel stay. And that fancy outfit to boot. Why would such a beautiful, middle-class kinda gal live out on a cliff side Motel all on her own?

Mildred returns her eyes forwards, then out of her window safely away from you. Theres a rip in your jeans worn right through to the skin and it’s making her uneasy. “I prefer no-one interfering in my business.” Thoughts start to sneak into her mind. Look how you’re sitting. Arm up on the wheel like a casual truck driver and not how a woman drives. How you tap your the cap of your boot to music only you can hear, while she holds every muscle still and tight until they're cramping in their rigidity.

She should be glad when the familiar sight of the Sealight Inn comes into view. But Mildred doesn’t want the drive to end - you’ve both found a comfortable silence and there is few people in life one can truly, be silent with. Not feel the need to say something and make meaningless small talk. You car crunches over the stones and before she knows it, you’ve parked and the engine is off and she’ll have to get out alone. Mildred feels the rise and fall of her chest quickening, her lips drying, before she turns to glance your way. “Well I thank you for -“ She stammers, sounding most unlike herself, “- driving me home.” Now you’re leaning right across her lap and rifling in the glove box and Mildred doesn’t know where to look.

“Here. The name of the garage I work at, and where your car’ll be come the morning.” You fold the slip of paper and offer it to her, shifting yourself round to face her - more one on one. It would be so easy to just, reach out and smooth your thumb on that sharp cheekbone. But you withdraw your arm.

“You’re very kind.” Mildred slides it inside her bag and clips it closed again. Her eyes flick at the door handle, then sucks her lips in and waits.

You run around the car and open the door for her. “Anytime Ma’am,” You hum, respectfully standing aside for her to climb out.

Then she's assessing you, and doesn’t hide that she’s doing so. Pushing the top black button of her coat undone, she shifts it a little, just an inch or so wider at the neck. As your eyes predictably fall there, a heat rises up her back until all the little hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “Mildred. My name is Mildred Ratched,” She corrects you breathily.

“Anytime Miss Mildred,” You murmur, your voice husky now.

Mildred runs her thumb along the edge of her room key, the fidgeting motion keeping her focused trying to hold onto her conviction.“I don’t suppose, you -“

“Yes,” You jump in.

Your confidence stands proud in your eyes, and Mildred drinks it in. She laughs awkwardly, then gestures the way.


End file.
